


boos and blow, cocaine candy overdose

by thanatopis



Series: ode to the coke dealer [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, First Kiss, Hanzo is a Mess, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Mutual Pining, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: A funeral, drugs, and something unspoken that masks as brotherly bonding. A perfect Molotov cocktail for something wonderfully disastrous.





	boos and blow, cocaine candy overdose

**Author's Note:**

> this was long overdue

Their mother dies on a Sunday.

It’s ironic to Hanzo that a woman who was once proficient in various martial arts and the bow was taken so easily by death without so much as a resistant last word.

Despite the advancements the world has made both technologically and medically, some diseases just can’t be combatted with either fists, large sums of money, or well-meaning wishes and words.

The wake happens on the following Tuesday.

Ironically, it’s unbearably sunny. There’s not one cloud in the sky that Hanzo can spot.

Their father stands unshaken and regal as he receives his peer’s sincerest apologies with a slow nod of his head full of sober acknowledgement and subdued gratitude. His father is a stone pillar, someone he can mentally lean on and gather strength from when all he wants to do is crumble.

If Hanzo didn’t know the truth of his father’s heart, he would’ve believed that the Shimada head was taking the loss rather well. Hanzo knows his father adored his mother above all else. As the story is told, his father had fallen in love with his mother the moment she’d bested him in a judo match, literally sweeping him off his feet.

Hanzo, his father, and Genji wait in a receiving line until the ceremony is set to begin. Genji is the only one openly crying; fat tears run down his ruddy cheeks, unashamed in his show of weakness. His breath hiccups as he tries to give thanks while keeping some sort of dignity about himself. Their father neither chastises nor scolds Genji for his transparent emotions, always soft hearted and sympathetic when it comes to his youngest son; a similarity his wife shared.

While mother would’ve never said so, Hanzo knew she had shared a special bond with her youngest son, one that she had never quite managed to form with her eldest.

Once Hanzo realized the weight of the responsibility that would one day be his, he steadily withdrew from his mother, becoming distant and aloof to her affections because he believed her love was a weakness he could not afford.

It had…warped him somewhat. Hanzo knows this intrinsically like he knows the back of his own hand, but he doesn’t regret the choices that he made, not as much as he thinks he probably should.

In the back of their mother’s mind, Hanzo believes there was never any doubt that Genji—such a bright, bubbly boy who was open and utterly delightful—had been made from her undying love. Genji had probably always felt like a child of his mother’s womb, whereas with Hanzo, she probably questioned how such a cold and aloof boy could’ve possibly been born from her.

Hanzo felt no particular way about the favoritism his parents had subtly shown Genji all throughout their short lives. In a way, he could understand. Genji was magnetic and too easy to love and adore, and he was the most important person in Hanzo’s life, bar none.

He discreetly looked at Genji from the corner of his lowered eye, his heart aching all too predictably at seeing his brother so visibly upset. It itched at Hanzo that this wasn’t just a simple hurt he could fix with soft, soothing words and a bandage carefully wrapped around Genji’s source of pain.

Hanzo didn’t think father would mind if he put a reassuring hand on the small of Genji’s back, so he did, lending his warmth, his support, and love all in one gesture; thumb calmly stroking along the raised, bony protrusions of Genji’s spine until his sobs began subsiding into quiet sniffles.

Hanzo did not remove his hand until the ceremony had ended.

* * *

 

Hanzo and Genji retreat to his living quarters in the castle when they’ve finished burying their mother and there are no more tears to be possibly shed.

It was surreal; the finality of saying goodbye to her. Their father had disappeared soon after; a quiet demand that he not be disturbed for the rest of the evening so he could mourn her in his own way without prying eyes watching for the subtlest of cracks along his infrastructure.

There’s alcohol on both their breaths, but Genji’s exudes far more potent. The sake has been filled and refilled again and again, so many times that Hanzo has lost count, but it’s enough to get him loose limbed. Genji isn’t stumbling drunk yet, but Hanzo knows that’s to be his goal by the end of this hellishly dragging day.

Hanzo does not judge, not anymore, not after acquiring his new bad habit of snorting the equivalent of battery acid up his nose. It burned like acid the first time he’d done cocaine, but now the sensation is nothing but a slight sting. Coke can make Hanzo feel absolutely everything or nothing depending on his mood. It’s a roll of the dice which determines the extreme he lands on for the day; it’s a gamble—a _wonderfully_ bad one.

Hanzo yearns for the sensation of it now, and it must show on his face because Genji nudges him weakly, red-rimmed eyes knowing as he mutters, “Do what you need to make this bearable. I don’t care.”

Hanzo hesitates, weighing whether he wants Genji to see him like this and rationalizes that Genji has seen far worse from him sober. He rises with a tired sigh that resonates throughout his entire body as he goes to fetch his supplies, his knees even pop with a soft crack.

Genji says something about Hanzo being an old man, but he’s not really listening.

Hanzo doesn’t look at Genji once when he comes to sit back down. Genji watches him with a curious kind of intensity as Hanzo carefully dumps a small baggie filled with the powdered substance and cuts it finely into two lines on an 8 x 9 vanity mirror that once belonged to his mother. A toast to her.

His heart beats quickly in giddy anticipation as he leans over and presses one nostril closed. He snorts a line in one go and grits his teeth against that burn that dulls each time he does this.

Hanzo finds himself laughing in the face of it, the sound bright with a hint of hysteria as he licks his pinky and drags it through the remnants so he can rub it over his gums. He quickly realizes what he must look like and his eyes flicker to Genji self-consciously, who has been suspiciously quiet throughout the whole ordeal. He expects to find disgust, maybe even pity, then realizes that would be far worse. He stills with a jerk when he finds Genji watching him with a fond bittersweet expression that threatens to rot Hanzo’s teeth black.

He flushes around the ears, tips going red hot in a way he never could control.

There’s a sadness in Genji’s smile that lingers around the adoring curve of his mouth and the lines of his watery-red eyes. It manages to set Hanzo on edge.

“What?” He snaps roughly, mad at how his fingers subtly twitch. By then he’s already diving back down for the second line, finding solace in the burn that sears his brain.

He doesn’t see Genji shake his head, only hears him sigh wistfully.

“I just…I don’t know.” Genji shrugs. “You looked happy—just doing _that_ and I…makes me feel like…” Genji pauses, shaking his head, “I’m being stupid, it’s nothing.”

Hanzo looks back up, his eyes narrowed down in question because that— _Genji_ doesn’t make sense sometimes and it throws Hanzo for a loop when he says weird shit like that. Cocaine makes him “happy” because he snorts it up his nose and the chemicals create a reaction that make him feel in control in an out of control way.

That’s not happiness—it’s just the illusion of it. Hanzo knows the difference.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hanzo huffs, wiping away the residue around his nostrils.

Genji winces a bit, shifting his gaze away from Hanzo as he suddenly finds the far wall fascinating. He shrugs, taking another shot of sake that sears his throat.

“It’s fucking nothing, just forget it. I’m drunk off my ass,” Genji says as way of explanation.

Hanzo only lets it go because his entire body suddenly feels like an impending orgasm waiting to blow as he flops back onto the floor with an appreciative sound. He groans when the texture of his shirt smooths against his back. His eyes fluttered closed, not caring that Genji is in the same room as him as he arches his back and rocks his hips powerfully against nothing.

“Holy shit,” Genji breathes. Hanzo hears him like a far-off echo. “Does that happen every time?”

Hanzo takes his time answering. He licks over his lips in a slow pass, breathing heavily at how good such a movement feels when he’s under the influence. Unknown to Hanzo, Genji watches him enraptured. Genji’s eyes graciously roam over Hanzo’s writhing figure and how his chest strains against his dress shirt, his hair like black silky ink acting as a halo around his head. Absentmindedly, Genji shuffles closer until his thigh rests against Hanzo’s calf.

“No…not every time…”

Genji hums, leaning closer as he loosely wraps his fingers around Hanzo’s calf and delights when Hanzo jolts and his mouth parts on a sigh.

“What does it feel like?” Genji asks on a whisper that hangs delicately in the air between them, threatening to catch fire if either one of them dares to make the wrong move. He grips Hanzo’s ankle in a tight squeeze, feeling the tendons and bones shift against his fingers and savors the faint thump of blood pulsing through Hanzo’s veins. It’s heavy and strong—blatantly _alive_.

“Fuck,” Hanzo curses, breathless in the face of the tingles that rouse his body and leave his head high in the clouds.

Genji thinks he’s dangerously beautiful.

“Feels like my whole body just wants to come…”

Hanzo faintly hears Genji’s sharp inhale, but doesn’t see how Genji bites his lip into his mouth, or how he drags his bottom lip between his teeth in a slow pass. Hanzo just feels Genji’s hand smoothly run up the length of his calf, the pads of his fingers light and exploratory as he reaches the sensitive underside of Hanzo’s knee, fingers bared from going any further along his leg, dress pants in the way.

Genji’s following laugh sounds weak as he squeezes Hanzo’s calf.

“Damn,” He whistles low. “Are you about to shoot in your pants?” Genji teases lightheartedly, his grin is deviously charming and sharp as the edge of a knife. “Hands free orgasm? I think that would make anyone want to try at least once.”

Hanzo shakes his head fiercely, the urgency in the movement is a stark contrast to how the rest of his body remains loose and relaxed. It’s a fascinating dichotomy.

“God, _don’t_.”

The warning doesn’t sound half as convincing when Hanzo sounds like he’s in the middle of getting his dick sucked, but Genji takes his caution seriously with a thoughtful frown.

Ever since he was thirteen and he broke into his father’s liquor cabinet with a few of his friends, Genji’s always preferred alcohol. He smokes weed if someone else has it on hand, but he’s never had the desire to take anything harder than ecstasy. Maybe it’s his own version of self-preservation at work, but Genji won’t touch the hard stuff—doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it, not like Hanzo.

Genji huffs a breath, fondly exasperated by Hanzo’s continuous determination to protect him, even when it’s from himself.

He scoots closer, emboldened by the easy atmosphere between them, and lies horizontal besides Hanzo’s body, resting close enough to feel the heat of him and bask in it. Genji hesitates for only a moment when he reaches out with his hand, brushing stray strains of hair away from Hanzo’s face, wanting to watch him uninterrupted.

Hanzo hums low in his throat, pleased at the touch. He reminds Genji of a cat as he angles his face into the gentle brush of fingers, practically purring. If this does anything for Hanzo down below the belt, they both ignore it in favor of this delicate moment where peace seems to be attainable for men like them.

“I never want to lose this…” Genji confesses softly. He can gather the courage to say such transparent things when Hanzo’s eyes are closed, like that somehow protects him from Hanzo’s judgement—whatever it might be.

Hanzo has known his brother to be thoughtful in rare moments, but Genji’s words give him pause, makes the haze clear for a brief second.

When Hanzo opens his eyes, the room spins unfocused before he blinks it back into clarity. He turns his head, eyes catching Genji’s like a spark against flint, and it steals his breath violently when he sees his own fears, wants, and desires reflected back at him in Genji’s eyes.

It’s not right—it’s downright _concerning_ —but Hanzo’s not thinking when his hand cradles over Genji’s; he’s not thinking when he shifts his body and angles his face towards Genji’s for a kiss that has his heart running, threatening to leap right out of his chest and into Genji’s palm. Genji’s breath catches when their lips meet, hesitant and cautious, and then the moment of uncertainty passes when they both wordlessly understand that what they’re sharing is mutual and wanted.

Genji surges into Hanzo with certain kind of desperation that has him making a stunted sound against Genji’s mouth as his arms reach out and grab for any part of Genji Hanzo can get his hands on. They kiss like it’s the first and last time they’ll ever get the chance—both hungry and urgent, tinged with longing to tie it all together—and Hanzo suddenly realizes he _needs_ the taste of Genji in his mouth like he needs nothing else.

The gap between them is enormously wide until it simply isn’t.

They’re pressed hip-to-hip as Genji situates his thigh between Hanzo’s legs, grinding against him, igniting a fire that’s too much for his sensibilities to take. He’s only a man.

 _This is your brother_ ; a judging voice reminds Hanzo.

 _What are you doing to him, you pervert? You should be ashamed._ The voice reprimands, sounding more and more like Genji with each word and Hanzo panics, like maybe Genji is vocalizing inside his head, too scared or too shocked to push Hanzo away himself, so he does it for him instead.

He breaks away from Genji’s mouth with a gasp, quickly removing himself with jerky limbs from this crude situation that has spiraled so far out of his control that it makes his head spin. Hanzo chooses to trivialize and ignore how Genji chases after him, lips wet and bruised red, and Hanzo stomach flips for a multitude of reasons he’s too high to analyze all the ways in how he’s fucked up.

Hanzo runs out of the room, tail between his legs like the coward that he is.

Genji doesn’t chase after him, doesn’t even call out his name.

Hanzo feels bile rising inside his throat as he gags, once, twice before he’s emptying the contents of his stomach outside in the gardens.

He’s thankful for it; it completely erases the taste of Genji in his mouth, almost like Hanzo can pretend it never happened.


End file.
